Letting Go
by Juulna
Summary: Red and Liz are back in D.C., but when Red disappears, what can Liz do to find him? [Lizzington] - Disclaimed. Repost.
1. Chapter 1

**Note: This is a repost of a work originally posted on December 1st, 2015. I was hacked in January of 2017 and my works removed against my will. The original note for the story is as follows:**

 **"** **For the Lunchbox group's gift exchange, here's the first chapter of my gift to redisthenewblackington. I hope you enjoy!** **For the sake of this fic, Liz shot Tom Connolly in the spring, and Ressler captured her in the episode Kings of the Highway (308) during November."**

* * *

 **December 1** **st** **, 2015**

Liz stood in the doorway of her old office, amazed at how much it hadn't changed over the last year half year. There wasn't anything big that stood out to her, besides the barrenness of what used to be her desk, but all of the small changes added up together to form a big difference in her mind. Perhaps there wasn't even anything that had changed that much, really, except her perception of her old life. Her whole life had been one upheaval after another these last few months that it really shouldn't have been a surprise that she would look at things in a whole new light.

"You just gonna stand there all day?"

Her former partner's voice snapped her out of her fugue and she twirled around to face him, hand reaching to her hip for her holstered service weapon. It wasn't the same one that she'd been carrying the last while, which was the only thing that saved Donald Ressler from becoming another workplace violence statistic – however accidental. "Don't startle me like that!" Liz gasped, her heart racing wildly. "I could have shot you!"

Ressler had his hands in the air, showing he meant no harm, but he didn't take any steps away from her. He'd always been bold like that. "All that time on the run really messed you up, didn't it?" He mused as he pushed past her and into the shared office space.

She ignored his question as it seemed rather rhetorical, and followed him in. She didn't shut the door behind her as she moved to lean against her desk. "Looks like we're both moving back in here at the same time, huh?"

"Yep," he grunted in reply. "I'm really glad that everything got sorted out with Cooper. I wouldn't wish his job on anyone, but at least he seems to thrive in it."

Silence fell over them, growing increasingly uncomfortable as it drew on.

"Look, about what happened–" Ressler started to apologize for his fervor in bringing her in.

"Don't." Liz snapped. She didn't want to go over it again for what felt like the fifteenth time. It probably was, at that. She softened her tone as she saw the stricken look flash across his face before he quickly covered it up. "Ressler, we've already been over it. I forgive you. That doesn't mean I'll forget. But what you did, in a roundabout way, did help to clear my name. It forced the Cabal to come out and we were able to get them. Most of them," she amended, a distant look crossing her features. "My name is cleared, we got some of the bad guys, everything else has been buried so deep I bet only the President can see it, and we're back on track with the Blacklist. Well, as soon as Reddington feels like talking to you… us… again. I'm just amazed I'm back so soon, actually."

With that she opened the file in her hands, plopped down at the desk that was finally hers again, and gave Ressler heavy signals that she didn't want to be bothered again. She had enough on her mind to deal with.

* * *

 **December 3** **rd** **, 2015**

Elizabeth Keen never thought that being free would be so… debilitating. She could hardly catch her breath in the Post Office; she felt like she was suffocating and it was only the middle of her third day back at work. She didn't know how to cope with a normal job anymore. She missed her days on the run, oddly enough. Even though they were fraught with peril, close calls, pain, and remorse, they were also days that – she could now admit to herself – were filled with a degree of relaxation, freedom, introspection, and a burgeoning connection with the one man she never thought that she would miss when she first met him over two years ago.

Yet miss him she did.

She missed their closeness, their talks, and their camaraderie. She missed saving his skin as often as he saved hers. She missed the way he spoke her name in the quiet of their safe houses, and the way he shouted it when warning her of danger. She missed drinking wine with him in that first safe house below the bar, and aged scotch at their last.

She was missing a lot of things about him that she never thought she would. She was feeling a lot of things that she realized, with a warm fascination, that she never thought she'd feel.

But most of all she was feeling lost at sea without him. Adrift without the one man who could anchor her; who knew her beyond anyone else.

Liz fumbled for her phone, flipping the switch off and on to make it sound as if it were vibrating, and pretended to take a call that would get her out of the cage that her returned life had become. "Reddington? You have something for us? Fine, if you insist, I'll be over there as soon as I can. What's the address?" She already knew the address, but she just wanted to make it seem believable so that she could escape without repercussions.

Maybe then she could breathe again.

* * *

 **December 3rd, 2015 (continued)**

Raymond Reddington was busy getting his affairs back in order after the chaos of the last half year. There wasn't too much that was beyond repair as he'd been able to keep track of things even while running from the FBI and Cabal with Lizzie, but what he did have to fix was taking up a lot of his attention. He kept himself busy, working late into the night and getting up early the next day, not only to run his business empire, but – in his rare moments of honesty with himself – also to keep himself distracted.

His rare moments of down time were becoming unbearable, even after only a week. Elizabeth Keen was always on his mind, in one form or another, but his thoughts were at least manageable when he was managing his current assets, or arranging for a takeover of another company. The fact that most of those takeovers were hostile recently, when they didn't necessarily have to be, had not escaped his notice. At least he had an outlet for his frustration.

He missed her. Desperately.

He was no longer content with what their life had been before the shooting of Tom Connolly. The previous status quo was not what he wanted anymore, even though he had been so content with it before now. He found himself increasingly desperate for the fervor of their escape; the chase; the exhilaration that accompanied it all. He discovered a new truth about himself in the days following her exoneration where he was separated from her – he could no longer stand to be without her by his side, sleeping in the next room, sharing meals, cars, couches, smiles, and memories from their past. He found that he couldn't operate without her.

"Raymond."

Dembe's voice broke him out of his spiraling thoughts and emotions. He realized that his breaths had been coming quicker and he had been staring cross-eyed at a blank wall.

"I am well, my friend."

If only he could believe his own words.

* * *

 **December 3rd, 2015 (continued)**

It took Liz until that evening to work up the courage to knock on his safe house door. Moments later, she was face to face with the man who had been occupying her thoughts for the whole afternoon, and almost every other moment of the last week.

"Lizzie! Come in – you look half froze to death! What have you been doing?" He exclaimed as he drank the sight of her in. He quickly pulled her inside, closing and locking the door behind her. With a quick nod to Dembe, who greeted her before softly retreating back up the stairs, Red grasped her gloved hand in his and pulled her down the hall towards the den with its roaring fire.

He stopped when they were both standing directly in front of the fire, on the thick rug before the hearth. He picked up her other hand and clasped them both together between his after he pulled her gloves off. "Lizzie? What's wrong?" He tried again.

Blinking at him from under the furry edge of her hood, she mulled over his question for a couple of minutes. She was looking him in the eye, so he didn't rush her to respond. He took the moment to soak in her presence, just as she seemed to be doing with him. She was a far more welcome heat before him than that of the fire.

Before the silence could go on for too long, Liz let out a long shudder and whispered, "Everything."

"What's that, sweetheart?" Red brought his hands up to his mouth and blew through them to warm up Liz's cold digits.

She shivered again, and then stepped closer to him. "Everything's wrong, Reddington." She pulled one hand back from his grip, leaving the other where it was, and pushed the hood of her coat back. Her hair was once again back to its normal, deep brown, and it shone in the light from the flames. He had lent her the services of one of his accountants, who was also a hair stylist, the last time he had seen her. He had left before the end of the appointment, but obviously their work had paid off. He loved the glint of auburn that was brought out by the room's light.

She didn't seem to know what to do with her hand after pushing her hood back as she simply let it hover near her collarbone, so he took it in his hands once more. Bringing her hands back up to his lips, he breathed on them for warmth again. He couldn't stop himself from letting his tongue flick out from between his teeth to taste the salt of her skin.

Her eyes widened, and he stopped breathing even as he desperately tried to rein his expression in. He could feel his face wanting to contort into a display of his emotions and he couldn't let that happen. He didn't want to scare her off.

"Red…" she breathed his name out.

Damn it. Obviously he hadn't been quick enough. He quickly tried to distract her. "Why is everything wrong, Lizzie?"

Her eyes fluttered closed and she took a deep breath. She pulled her fingers back from his hands. He was briefly disappointed by the motion before realizing that she was unbuttoning her coat. As she undid the buttons, a lovely black linen suit jacket was revealed, covering a silken sapphire-colored blouse. They came from the clothes he'd had delivered to her temporary hotel room last week, and that fact thrilled him more than he'd thought it would at the time. She was beautiful.

She twisted around to toss her coat on the armchair behind her, turning to face him again with a stubborn look on her face. She looked as if she'd decided something important, if that familiar set to her jaw was any indication. He waited patiently for her to speak, having learned over the years not to rush her if he wanted to hear anything meaningful come from her lips. He didn't have to wait long.

"Everything's wrong because everything went back to what it was before. That's what's wrong." She took another shaky breath and looked him in the eyes again. "I don't want what my life was before. I don't want it anymore. I thought I did," she said before he could interject, "but there are things missing that I've come to expect. That I want. That weren't there a year ago, but that I've become used to in the last few months. Don't get me wrong… I'm really happy that most of the danger is gone… but I can honestly say that I was more comfortable on the run with you, living day by day, than I am now in my old office, my old job… my empty hotel room. I can't breathe, Red. It's so hard to breathe anymore. I… I miss you by my side." She couldn't continue past the sob that welled up in her throat.

He stared at her for a moment, dumbfounded as she put words to what he'd been feeling this last week. Before he could think on what he was doing, he'd gathered her into his arms and pulled her tight against his chest. She let out a larger, choking sob at the contact, and suddenly her knees gave out. He sank down with her to the rug, guiding her to rest on his lap, curled up sideways against his chest with her fingers clutching at his shoulder and chest under his dress shirt.

He let her cry, rocking her in his arms as he whispered soothing nothings into her hair. His arms were filled with holding her against him, but he still managed to circle his thumbs against her thigh and back in an attempt to soothe the ache within her. Finally, she was able to get her tears and breathing under control, though she stayed in his arms, basking in the warmth of his embrace.

"Sweetheart?" He whispered against her forehead, his lips moist against her skin.

"Yes?"

"I miss you every moment of the day," he confessed softly, taking a chance just as she had with her admission.

"Do you really?" She tilted her head to look up at him through her disheveled bangs. The look of hope in her eyes nearly killed him right then and there.

"Day and night, Lizzie," he admitted with a twist of his lips. "I can't seem to sleep without you nearby. It's been driving me crazy. Funny the things you get used to," he tried to joke but the adoration that sparked in her eyes kept his voice serious.

"Me too…" She lifted her head enough to place a soft kiss to the underside of his chin. A hum of pleasure came from her throat, and he found his pants tightening at the sound he'd heard in his dreams being heard in real life.

Liz gasped and shot up straight in his lap, though she didn't move off of him.

"I'm sorry Lizzie, please forgive me," he tried to apologize for his instinctive physical reaction.

"No." Before he could wonder why she wouldn't forgive him, her lips were on his in a desperate first kiss. "No," she repeated. "I can't live without you."

After that, there was no more speaking as they demonstrated to each other exactly what they missed about the other. The fire was the only witness as it glistened on their sweat-soaked skin, the crackling of the logs offering a beautiful counterpoint to the soft moans and gasps of pleasure being elicited from their throats.


	2. Chapter 2

**December 21st, 2015**

Liz smiled to herself as she went through the boxes in her rented storage unit. Nothing could dispel her good mood: not the fact that her things had obviously been gone through by the FBI; nor the fact that she was confronted with some items that reminded her of Tom; and especially not the cold of the blustery north-east winter day that was seeping into the unit.

She had found the perfect addition to her Christmas gift for Red.

Ever since the night their budding relationship began, she had been racking her brain in an attempt to figure out what to get a man who could buy anything and everything he wanted. She'd spent her days at work lost in thought, itching to use the computer to search for ideas, but she didn't want anyone to catch on to the change in the status of their relationship. It was none of their business, she'd thought to herself. If they found out, then they found out, but she wasn't going to go and volunteer that very information. For the same reason, she didn't even use her internet at the hotel – even though she was hardly ever there anymore, she was still keeping up appearances – or the browser on her phone. Having worked alongside Aram, the technological wizard, and after gaining a healthy paranoia during her months on the run, she just didn't want to take for granted that her devices weren't being monitored.

So she'd had to rely on her own brain power, and the odd hours she'd spent window shopping when not with Red. Thinking briefly on her hotel room, she made a brief mental note to look at the apartment she'd seen advertised just this morning. That would go a long way to helping her and Red have some much-needed alone time without anyone listening in. That way they could have his safe houses, and her apartment.

Looking down at what was in her hands, she smiled wistfully at the photo albums. One was of her growing up with Sam, and included pictures of her at a variety of ages and at different events and landmarks in her life. The other had been tucked under a false bottom of an old steamer trunk that Sam had had since before she was born. She'd only remembered there being a false bottom when she'd been locked in the Post Office's Box, of all places. This photo album she'd only discovered today, but it would go perfectly with the one of her childhood, as a gift for the man who had everything. Included within were pictures of her father and… Red. They were mostly of the two men together, alone, but some included Red's young family at the time. She'd bawled when she first saw them, but the tears had given way to a wistful smile, filled with love for the man she was trying to build a life with. Coupled with the few personal items from Red's former life that she had literally stolen from the FBI's storage warehouse, she was sure that they would make a perfect – though very emotional – gift.

* * *

 **December 22nd, 2015**

Red woke up with a scream, gasping as he tried to recover his breath. His eyes were wide and frantic and his hand was groping on the bedside table for his handgun before he could even formulate a proper thought.

Dembe crashed through his bedroom door, crouching low to the ground to stay out of any possible line of fire. The sight of his best friend calmed Red long enough that he was able to choke out a sharp "I'm fine," before the man started firing at the shadows. Both of them lowered their weapons at the same time, their breaths heavy in the stillness of the dark room.

"What's wrong, Raymond?" Normally Dembe would have just turned around and left his employer and close friend alone with his emotions, but he had never heard the man let out a sound like that in all their time together. Needless to say, he was concerned.

He'd thought that, with Liz and Red now reveling in their shared love, he'd have less nightmares and episodes such as this one, but his friend's demeanor was cracking worse and worse when the woman in question wasn't around to distract him. Some nights she couldn't remain, and those were the worst. Tonight was worse than ever before, though. He ventured again, "Raymond?"

Red took a deep breath and replied, his voice calm even as his body was visibly shaking. "Christmas," was all he needed to say, but he continued since Dembe was his closest companion. "Being with Liz is wonderful, Dembe. You know that that's been my deepest desire for over a year. But I've never been in a proper relationship with someone over Christmas – or any time, really – since… since 1990." He couldn't even say more than that about the event that occurred on Christmas Eve of 1990, not so soon after the nightmares of smoke, fire, and death that he had just woken from. They were worse than ever before.

"I understand," was all Dembe could find to say.

Silence settled over them again for another few minutes before Red spoke again, his voice stronger and more assured, like he had decided on something important. "Dembe, why don't you leave early for your planned visit with your daughter and granddaughter? I know it is a few hours earlier than planned, but I'm sure there's some gifts you've forgotten to pick up. Baz can cover things just fine until his partners get here. I'll just be in the den today, anyway, I think."

Dembe had already finished all of his shopping, but the tone in Red's voice brooked no argument. Sometimes Raymond could be pushed beyond propriety. Today was not one of those days.

Dembe sent up a quick and silent prayer for Reddington's sanity as he nodded to his friend, backing out of the door and closing it behind him.

* * *

 **December 22nd, 2015 (continued)**

Liz knocked on the door of the safe house du jour later that afternoon. She knew Dembe was off to visit his family on a well-deserved break – especially as he hadn't time to decompress with them after the Solomon affair – so she wasn't surprised when Baz opened the door instead of her quiet friend. "Hi Baz!" She greeted him brightly. Her cheeks were bright red from the cold wind, and her grin and cheer infectious.

"Miss Liz," Baz nodded at her, a smile creeping onto his rugged face. As he motioned her inside, wrapped packages filling her arms, he updated her on the status of the house's occupant. "He hasn't left the den since I saw him go in there early this morning, Miss Liz. Took his coffee, newspaper, and satellite phone, and then sequestered himself away." His tone lost a little bit of its genuine cheer by the end of his report, worry about his employer creeping into his voice.

Liz laid her packages on the foyer's bench, took off her gloves, and then turned around to place a gentle hand on Baz's forearm. He genuinely cared for the man who employed him, and she wanted him to know that she appreciated it in whatever way she could. "Thank you," she said. "I'll go distract him from his black cloud for a while. I think that, at least, is well within my capabilities."

He returned her smile with one of his own and a quick nod. "Yes'm. I'll be in the front room if you have any need. The others are in their usual places, as well." He watched as she placed her coat in the closet before he moved to his place by the front window.

Liz made her way to the den and listened for a moment to see if Red was on a business call. Hearing nothing, she opened the door.

The room was empty, the hearth bare. The normally well-perused newspaper was on the table by the back window, but had obviously never been opened, and a full mug of now-cold coffee lay beside it, untouched.

Frowning now, Liz made her way through the rest of the house. There were no recent signs of Red anywhere to be seen. More troubling than anything else, his winter jacket was missing from its hanger, and a small valise that he used for traveling was absent from his closet.

"Baz!" He came running up the stairs, two at a time, at her scream of fear. His gun was out and his eyes scanned over everything, taking the scene in quickly before focusing on Elizabeth. She stood beside the bed, her phone in one hand, and one of Red's usual burner phones in the other. Her eyes brimming with tears, she explained. "I don't know where he is! I tried calling his latest phone, but he left it in the drawer up here. And his bag is gone. And his coat! And he doesn't have a tracking chip anymore, not as part of his new agreement! I don't know where he is!" She repeated frantically.

Baz reached her in three long strides and took her by the shoulders. "Miss Liz. Please, calm down. Let me check the immediate area before we call in the big guns. Wait right here, and take deep breaths." He let the tone he used to use with his own daughter suffuse his voice, hoping it would calm the young woman down. He nodded at her as she took a couple of deep gulps of air, and then left the room at a jog. He was already calling for two out of three of his partners to assist him in a quick search of the area as Liz sat on the edge of his… their… bed. The other partner could be heard searching the house once again for their absent benefactor.

By the time all of the men had gathered again in the master bedroom, shaking their heads at their negative results, Liz had regained control of her faculties. She issued orders as if she had every right, and the men followed everything she said. Baz called Dembe, Liz called Mr. Kaplan, another man called Red's pilot – only to have his call go unanswered – then called the backup pilot so that Red's second jet could be flown in from storage and made ready to go at a moment's notice in the event they needed to fly.

They left to follow various leads, with the parting words of Liz ringing in their ears. "And don't tell Cooper!" As if they'd do that, anyway. But her heart was in the right place, so they let her be, leaving to track down the most important man in all of their lives.

* * *

 **December 24th, 2015**

Raymond took a deep breath of air, filling his nose with the foreign scents of the capital city of Jordan, Amman. He was sitting on his host's balcony, taking in the sights, sounds and smells that permeated everything in the beautiful city's downtown core. His good friend Muhib had granted him the shared use of his family's penthouse apartment, along with the protection detail that accompanied the building and the man himself. A man much like Reddington, Muhib knew when not to ask questions, and gladly welcomed the other man into his home for the following week, promising to keep him safe as if he were his own brother.

Red had always loved this city. Its life, its liberalism, and its upbeat culture melded perfectly and congruently with its past, its respect for religion, and even its monarchy. It was a shining light for the rest of the countries surrounding Jordan, and Reddington only wished that they would pay more attention to the beauty and passion it evoked.

His only regret about his unannounced visit was that he wasn't sharing it with his Lizzie. He wished, for the umpteenth time, that he had asked her to come along with him; that he'd had the presence of mind to calmly plan the trip and let everyone know that he was okay.

His hand clenched around the old wedding band that he'd dug out of a safe in Paris on the way to Jordan. He hadn't planned the stop, but he'd been utterly compelled to follow the desire that had struck him halfway across the Atlantic Ocean, its waters glimmering darkly beneath his jet from the weak sunlight.

He needed to reconcile with his dead wife before he could ever hope to share the Christmas season with a new love. Especially Elizabeth Keen. Somehow his mind knew he needed this.

Contrary to the Post Office team's belief, Carla hadn't been his real wife. She was a cover to draw out a threat; naval intelligence just like he was. The ploy had succeeded, but it had also failed. His real family had still died – horribly, and painfully.

Bowing his head over the ring, he let himself go. He cried with great, big, racking sobs that expressed how his heart was breaking all over again at the memories consuming him. This went on well into the ever-cooling night, but the cathartic experience was truly necessary to move on with his life. He desperately wanted – no, needed – to be able to face every day with Liz as his primary focus; every day, including Christmas. Slowly, he let go of his wife and daughter, though he vowed to never forget them.

He was so consumed with his grief, and then with the peace that followed afterwards, that he didn't notice the flash of a camera lens from the hotel window across the street.

* * *

 **December 24th, 2015 (continued)**

"We found him, dearie," Mr. Kaplan stood in the doorway of the master bedroom. Everyone had wanted to change safe houses on schedule, but Liz had refused, citing the fact that Red wouldn't necessarily know where to find them if they kept moving around. No, staying in the same place was better, even if it wasn't quite as safe.

Liz blinked at her sleepily from where she was propped up in bed, laptop on her lap. She had been up for over a day at this point, but Kate's words brought with them an immediate shot of adrenaline. "Where, Kate?" She could hear everyone else in the house moving around at breakneck speed, obviously getting ready to take off at any moment.

"The capital city of Jordan; Amman."

Liz frowned at her in confusion, wondering why in the world Red would have run off to Jordan of all places. She knew he had contacts all over the world, but she wasn't familiar with any from there.

Kate clarified her answer at Elizabeth's look of confusion. "He has a friend there, named Muhib. They go back a long way, not all of it business-related. It looks like Raymond has holed up at his family's abode in the city, for whatever reason. We haven't contacted him yet, in case he decides to flee again." Consternation crossed Mr. Kaplan's face at the question of why he'd fled in the first place. She knew Christmas was bad for him – it always had been – but to flee like this? That wasn't the Raymond Reddington she knew.

"So we're going to go surprise him at this Muhib's place?" Liz queried.

"Yes," Kate replied, not letting on that her mind had drifted momentarily. "Pack a quick bag. We'll be leaving for the air strip in ten minutes. Make sure you sleep on the plane. I'm sure we'll have further difficulties once we find that insufferable man."

* * *

 **December 25th, 2015**

Liz wanted to err on the side of caution, so she had chosen to wear a long, blue wool skirt, paired with a long-sleeved white wool top, and a matching blue scarf draped artfully over her hair. It helped that those had been some of the first items she'd seen in the closet she kept at Red's safe houses; the one that traveled with him each time he moved, along with his myriad suits, shoes, and hats.

Realizing that she was distracting herself with thoughts of clothes, she shook herself out of her thoughts. "Are we ready?" She looked first to Dembe, then to Baz, and finally settled her eyes on Mr. Kaplan. Kate had been a rock for her through this ordeal, even more so than Dembe, who was consumed with his own worry for his friend. Kate's cool head and caring manner had helped to steady her and pull her through the last few days.

All three of them nodded.

"Go," Liz commanded.

Dembe and Baz left the car from opposite sides, scouting the street from the ground in a last sweep before the ladies were allowed to be handed out of the car. They'd all caught up on as much sleep as they could on the plane, between preparing for their arrival in Amman, so their steps were confident and energized as they made their way to the apartment complex's doors.

They were met in the luxurious lobby by the expected security personnel. After a quick check with their employer, they allowed them all to proceed up to the penthouse floor via the elevator. They grudgingly allowed Dembe and Baz to pass by, although they did a quick pat down to account for the types and quantity of weapons that the men carried.

Small smirks played on Kate's and Liz's lips as the elevator doors closed. Reddington's men wouldn't have made the mistake of passing over any woman on their way to see his employer. Madeline Pratt being a shining example, sometimes the most dangerous of Red's enemies were women, and both Liz and Kate were carrying at least three different weapons each.

They made their way to the penthouse suite's door, where two armed guards were standing to either side. Since it was the only door on the floor, and the hallway was only a couple of yards long from the elevator doors, Liz imagined that those two could cause some serious damage if their boss were threatened. Kate and she shared another look. At least Red wasn't being protected by _complete_ morons.

The other three deferred to Elizabeth, allowing her to step forward and greet the two guards. After a quick check with their boss, they all waited for the door to be opened from the other side.

A middle-aged man in traditional Jordanian Muslim garb stood in the doorway. The quality of the material draping his body named him Muhib even before he introduced himself as such.

Elizabeth dipped her chin gracefully in acknowledgment of his greeting, glad that she had raided Kate's jewelry stash on the plane. If she hadn't, she would've felt like she didn't belong. And this night was all about proving that she belonged in Red's world, an equal match to any of his associates. Whatever his issues, she was bound by oath to herself to make sure she was _not_ one of said issues. The small, stately sapphires gracing her throat, ears, wrist, and finger made her swell with confidence when she met the man's appraising gaze.

"You are here for Raymond, no?" Muhib asked in heavily-accented English.

"Yes," she replied in an even tone, trying not to betray the leap of her heart at the insinuated confirmation that her lover was here.

"Please, come in then. He has told me much about you. All of you," he amended as his gaze flicked over the remainder of their group. "We were just finishing up afternoon tea but I'm sure that my wife would be happy to host additional guests."

"There's no need, thank you sir," Liz turned him down graciously. She was about to say more when her eyes widened.

Red had stepped out from the living room, white gauze drapes fluttering around him. He was dressed much like Muhib was, though Liz barely took in the details as she flung herself across the room at the man she had been so worried about for the last few days. Her kid boots made no sound on the wood floor as she raced to him, throwing herself into his arms from at least a yard away. She was sobbing, tears streaming down her face, by the time she made contact with him.

Reddington had heard voices at the door and had come to investigate. He should have known that his team would find him sooner, rather than later. Yet he couldn't find it in himself to be upset with them as he looked down at the glorious woman wrapping her arms around his waist and crying into his shirt. A head scarf had fallen to her shoulders from where it had previously been resting over her dark brown locks. He couldn't think of anywhere better than to put his hands on her head, and let his fingers thread wonderingly into her hair.

Red looked up from her still-shaking form, and met the soft glances sent their way from the lieutenants of his organization. Their acceptance of the woman in his arms, and their deference to her in the last few weeks, proved to him more than anything that she was the one and only for him. No matter how romantically insipid that sounded in his head, he couldn't help but think of the truth of that statement.

"Lizzie, sweetheart," he began.

"You fool!" she whispered heatedly against his bare throat. She felt him swallow convulsively, and pulled herself back from exploding at him in front of his friend. She settled for whispering up at him as she tightened her grip around his torso. "Why did you leave me without a word? Leave us? We – you have to know we care for you. That we love you. That… that _I love you_." The last words tumbled out of her mouth on a groan.

Friends and associates be damned, he couldn't hold himself back any longer. He tilted her head back by twisting his fingers in her hair firmly, and slanted his mouth down across hers. He let his every thought, every feeling, every _emotion_ , be felt through his kiss. He wanted her to know that he had let go of everything that had been holding him back before now. He wanted her to know how sorry he was for having left the way he did.

"I love you too, Lizzie," he gasped against her mouth as he came up for oxygen. No, that didn't sound right. Not even those words could convey how he felt right now. He dove in for another kiss as his mind shied away from, but then settled on, the words he knew he needed to speak. Words he had spoken to _no one_ for over two decades. Pulling back, he looked her deep in the eyes, his hands still wrapped around the back of her skull and her body pressed firmly against his.

"Merry Christmas, sweetheart."

* * *

 **Note: The idea about Carla Reddington not being his real wife comes from CollectorofWonders on AO3 - from her absolute masterpiece called "Persephone". I strongly urge you to check it out if you have yet to.**


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